by Nele Neuhaus
Nick sighed. He felt guilty that his team had stayed up all night worrying about him. He was so excited by Alex’s call last night that it simply didn’t occur to him that anyone would notice his absence.
“I’m sorry I caused such a commotion,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”
“Let’s hope so.” Connors grinned tiredly.
“Alex Sontheim is back in town,” Nick said, and the deputy US attorney turned around abruptly.
“Since when?”
“Since yesterday evening. She’s ready to speak to you and Jenkins today.”
“Well, that’s pretty good news for a change.”
Connors’s exhaustion vanished.
“Bed will have to wait a little longer then. Where is she?”
Nick hesitated. He couldn’t tell them that he knew.
“She gave me her cell phone number.”
“Okay,” the deputy US attorney said with a nod, “let’s drive to my office. We’ll call her from there and then send someone over to pick her up.”
Alex stared at Sergio with wide-open eyes. Her first reflex was to try to slam the door shut, but one of the men accompanying him had blocked her. So now they were all standing in the small room: Sergio Vitali, Luca, and three other men with cold stares who apparently wouldn’t mind killing her. Alex’s entire body was shaking, and fear pumped though her veins.
“So our paths cross again,” Sergio said in a chilly voice. His gaze scanned the small room, fixating on the rumpled bedding for a few seconds. His hands clenched into fists, but he managed to keep his composure.
“Nice little room.” He didn’t let Alex out of his sight. “Did you run out of money? You could rent a suite at the Plaza with the fifty million that you stole from me.”
Alex couldn’t say a word. She was paralyzed with fear.
“You’re a sneaky little whore,” Sergio continued. “I truly misjudged you. I thought you were smart, but apparently you’re not. You’re quite stupid, actually.”
Without warning he punched her in the face. Alex stumbled onto the bed. Sergio reached her in one step and pulled her up again.
“Who was here with you last night?” he demanded. Alex just silently shook her head. His face looked distorted, and he rammed his fist right into her stomach. He pulled her up by her hair and hit her so hard that her lip burst open. Blood dripped down her chin.
The pain robbed Alex of her breath. She looked around at the four other men, who watched indifferently. She couldn’t expect any help from them.
“I asked you to tell me who you were fucking last night, you whore!” Sergio grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her. “Was it Kostidis? Tell me! Did you let that miserable little bastard fuck you?”
Alex’s body throbbed with fear. Sergio would kill her, and there was no one to help her. This realization brought her racing thoughts to a standstill. She didn’t want to die. Not here, not today, and not before she saw Nick again to tell him that she loved him.
“I could forgive you for stealing my money,” Sergio said, his voice gritty with anger, “and also that you ruined MPM and caused me all of this trouble. Even for the thing with the accounts on Grand Cayman I could forgive you, but one thing I’ll never forgive you for is…”
He stepped very close to her, but she didn’t back up an inch.
“That you went to Kostidis, of all people,” his voice turned into a hiss, “and told him everything. I won’t forgive you for that. You will die for that.”
She saw insane fury in his eyes.
“But before that, you’ll tell me everything that I want to know. My guys have some pretty nice methods for bringing out the best in people. Just like your friend from Boston. First he pretended not to know anything, but then he suddenly remembered.”
Justin! What had they done to him?
“And your fat little friend from your office,” Sergio laughed derisively. “He ratted you out by the way, the coward.”
“What did you do to them?” Alex whispered.
“Nothing compared to what I’ll do to you,” Sergio countered. “You did it with the fat one, right?”
He grimaced again. Alex could hardly believe that such a powerful man was tormented by childish jealousy.
“You let all of these guys fuck you! That shaggy computer nerd and that dumb journalist—and now even Kostidis!” Sergio spat out his name in disgust. “I thought that you had good taste in men, but you’re completely indiscriminate. It’s a downright insult that my name is on a list with scum like Kostidis!”
Alex followed his every movement and backed slowly away from him. Sergio wasn’t just a ruthless criminal. A crippling inferiority complex and ruthless contempt for humanity were concealed behind his charming facade. This man—whom she once thought she loved—was a psychopath.
He stood in front of her. She felt his breath on her face and saw the glint in his eyes.
“You’ll pay for what you’ve done, you whore!”
Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw the champagne bottle that she’d bought yesterday standing on the table. After all this tension of the past days, she decided to go all or nothing. She wouldn’t surrender to Sergio without a fight.
“Boss,” Luca urged, “we should get out of here.”
“Yes, we will,” Sergio replied. He issued a short order to his men. One of them pulled out a roll of duct tape, and at that moment Alex got ready to fight. She grabbed the bottle and smashed it on the head of the man standing closest to her. She saw his surprised look before he went down on his knees and collapsed. Then she spotted the revolver he wore in his waistband. Taking advantage of the moment, she bent down and grabbed the weapon. Alex felt more energy pulsing through her body than she knew she had. She aimed the weapon at Sergio.
“You won’t get out of here,” he whispered as his voice trembled with rage.
“Yes, I will. And you’re coming with me,” she replied. “You’ll take me to Mark and Justin. If you don’t try to trick me, I’ll tell you everything you want to know once both of them are safe.”
“You’re not in a position to make demands,” Sergio said, grinding his teeth.
“Yes, I am,” Alex countered. “I’m the one with a gun.”
“You won’t shoot me.”
“Maybe not,” she said, not taking her eyes off his. She smashed the champagne bottle against the edge of the table and it burst with a hiss. “But I will cut your throat.”
The broken bottle neck was at least as deadly as the loaded .38 caliber in her other hand, and Alex was resolved to defend herself down to the last drop of blood.
“Boss,” Luca said emphatically, “you should do what she says.”
“Never.”
With a quickness that Alex didn’t expect, Sergio charged her and grabbed her right wrist. From the impact, she lost her balance and fell to the ground. She had underestimated his hatred and vengefulness. Now it was clear to her that she might not have the slightest chance of escaping him alive. His fist hit her in the face, and stars exploded in front of her eyes as she heard an angry wheeze.
“Nobody leaves me,” he whispered hoarsely, “nobody betrays me. And nobody makes a fool out of me. Do you understand?”
It was a vicious fight, and Alex had lost. Luca leaned over her and pressed a cloth drenched with an acrid smelling liquid over her nose and mouth. She felt them tie up her arms and legs. She heard Sergio’s voice from a distance.
“I have an appointment in the city now,” she heard him say. “Do with her whatever you want, but make sure that she doesn’t die before she tells us everything.”
Alex heard her cell phone ring. In desperation, she thought about Nick and then lost consciousness.
Nick called repeatedly but kept getting Alex’s voice mail.
“Strange,” he said as he hung up, “she’s not answering.”
“Maybe she’s taking a shower,” Lloyd Connors remarked.
“Yes, maybe. I’ll try again in a minute.”
/> The men sat in Connors’s office at the US Attorney’s Office building. Tate Jenkins and Alan Harper, the head of the SEC’s investigation unit, would arrive from Washington DC in three hours to interview Alex. Nick longed to see Alex again. He should have told her this morning what she meant to him and what he felt for her. He didn’t just like her. He had fallen in love with her a long time ago, but this had become absolutely clear to him after last night.
“Try again,” Connors said, jerking him out of his thoughts, and Nick dialed Alex’s cell phone number again. It rang and rang, and no one answered. An uneasy feeling crept up inside him.
“Maybe she changed her mind after all and took off again,” Connors speculated. “That would be quite an embarrassment for us.”
“No way,” Nick said, shaking his head. “She promised me that she’d speak with Jenkins and the people from the SEC. After all, that’s why she returned to the city.”
“Try again,” the deputy US attorney suggested.
“I think it would be better to go there.” Nick’s uneasy feelings were turning to fear.
“So you do know where she is.” Connors threw him a sharp look.
“I had to promise her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“So?”
“The Portland Square Hotel on Forty-Seventh Street.”
“Okay.” Connors grabbed the telephone receiver and called Deputy Spooner. “They’re leaving right now,” he announced after a brief conversation.
“I’m coming with you.” Nick jumped up. Connors sighed but let Nick follow him. Accompanied by two US marshals, they headed to Forty-Seventh Street. Nick’s foreboding feeling increased as they got closer to the hotel. Something had happened. It had been a mistake to leave Alex behind at the hotel. He should have insisted she come with him. Suddenly, he wondered whether he had possibly put Vitali on Alex’s trail. He knew that they were watching him, but he hadn’t detected anything suspicious last night. Even after all he had done or experienced in his life up to now, Nick had never before felt so afraid. Fear was alien to him. He had been indifferent to every storm, no matter how strong or threatening. Maybe it was this fearlessness, his inability to accept the dark side that had helped him succeed. Mary could never understand that. She was always frightened when he prosecuted the Mafia families or drug dealers. She didn’t understand that their threats were his motivation.
But since Mary’s death, something had changed inside of Nick. In his many hours of loneliness, he had thought about his mistakes; doubt had crept up, and he started to recognize that his uncompromising stubbornness had created many enemies over the years. And these enemies were dangerous.
The car raced through the empty Sunday morning streets toward the Theater District. It was all his fault if something had happened to Alex! Connors gave Nick a strange look.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“I have a feeling that something terrible has happened,” Nick replied, mumbling, “and if that’s the case, then it’s my fault.”
“Nonsense,” Connors said, shaking his head, “what do you have to do with this?”
“I was with her last night,” Nick said quietly. The deputy US attorney stared at him in disbelief.
“You went to see Sontheim?” he whispered so that the two deputies couldn’t hear. “For God’s sake, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to talk to her first.” Nick shrugged his shoulders. “She called me around ten thirty, and I went to see her immediately.”
“How could you do that, Nick?” Connors whispered. “This woman is a wanted fugitive! She’s still under suspicion of murder! You should have called me right away!”
Nick struggled to stay relaxed. If Connors found out that he’d had sex with her, then he’d be immediately excluded from the investigation.
“I didn’t want to bother you in the middle of the night.”
“Great.” Connors rolled his eyes. “I’m torn from my bed for every trifle, but if something really important happens, I don’t hear about it!”
“I’m sorry.”
“What did she say? What happened to the money?”
“She didn’t touch it,” Nick replied. “She intends to use it as evidence against Vitali.”
“Hmm.” Connors stared pensively out the window. Nick was crazy with nervousness. They finally reached the hotel. Before Deputy Khazaeli could bring the car to a complete stop, Nick jumped out and charged into the hotel lobby. A few guests watched curiously as the four men charged into the elevator. Nick led them to room 211.
“Step aside!” Spooner ordered, and Deputy Khazaeli kicked the flimsy door so hard that it flew off the hinges, crashing down. He and his colleague charged the room with their guns drawn. They searched the bathroom and the closets.
“Nothing.” Spooner secured his revolver and put it back into its holster. “The bird has left the nest.”
Nick shook his head in disbelief. Alex had really disappeared. The bed, where they had made love last night, was still disheveled.
“It seems she changed her mind,” Connors observed. There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “What a pile of shit! What am I supposed to tell the FBI? I’ll look like a complete idiot!”
He let himself sink into a chair and rubbed his reddened eyes. Nick stood in the middle of the room, stunned. Then his gaze fell on the bed. He leaned over it and touched a spot on the sheet with his index finger.
“Oh my God,” he murmured, and all of his strength left him. It was blood. Undoubtedly.
“What is it?” Connors asked.
“There’s blood everywhere,” Nick whispered. “And it’s fresh.”
Connors jumped up as if he had been stung, and both of the US marshals stepped closer. They hadn’t noticed the spots on the flowered bedding and the dark carpet, or the broken glass from the bottle on the floor.
“She didn’t just run away.” Nick’s voice failed him.
All of the color vanished from his face, and panic overcame him. He couldn’t suppress his shaking.
“That’s right,” Khazaeli nodded, “because otherwise she would have taken the suitcase with her.”
He bent over and pulled her suitcase from under the bed. Someone had carelessly thrown Alex’s belongings into it to make it look like she had checked out. While Connors was on the phone ordering the crime scene unit to the Portland Square Hotel and the US marshals looked everywhere for revealing clues, Nick stood there as if paralyzed. Alex was in Vitali’s clutches. He must have found out about her whereabouts and waited until Nick left the room to strike. Now there was no hope left. Vitali would never let Alex go alive. Nick clenched his fists in helpless anger. He wanted to scream and rage, throw himself on the bed and cry like a baby, but that wouldn’t help matters any. It was too late.
The largest search operation New York City had ever seen was well underway an hour after the police radio reported Alex Sontheim’s disappearance. Gordon Engels dispatched his best men to question every guest and the entire staff of the Portland Square Hotel. Entire squadrons of police combed through the warehouses at the Brooklyn, Jersey City, and Staten Island docks. Roadblocks were set up on the bridges and tunnels leaving Manhattan. Suspicious vehicles were searched. The crisis team headquarters was established at the US Attorney’s Office. All of the information was synthesized there, although Police Commissioner Jerome Harding vehemently protested. Outraged, Harding marched into Connors’s office around noon after one of his staff members apprised him of the situation following a Sunday brunch with Sergio Vitali.
“This case is the sole jurisdiction of the NYPD!” he yelled at the deputy US attorney. “Why are you interfering with our work?”
His face was red, and he was so angry that at first he didn’t even notice the other men.
Tate Jenkins smiled thinly. “Why are you so upset, Jerome? Cooperation between the agencies usually works out well.”
The police commissioner turned around abruptly and stared at the deputy direct
or of the FBI in surprise.
“Jenkins,” he said, “this looks like a bigger operation. What are you doing here?”
“It’s big, all right.” Jenkins pointed to one of the vacant chairs across from him. “Take a seat, Jerome.”
The police commissioner, who normally projected confidence, suddenly seemed intimidated.
“Is there something I should know?” he asked. “Why is the FBI chasing this woman? Did she try to kill the president or something?”
“Take a seat, Jerome,” Tate Jenkins repeated. Lloyd Connors shot a quick glance at Nick, but the mayor just stared hollow-eyed off into space. It seemed like he had been in shock ever since they entered the hotel room.
“Connors,” Jenkins said, “please inform Mr. Harding about the situation.”
“What’s going on here?” A fine film of sweat had formed on Harding’s forehead, and his eyes flitted nervously back and forth. Lloyd Connors cleared his voice and prepared himself for one of the police commissioner’s fierce and almost legendary temper tantrums.
“We’re not just looking for Alex Sontheim because of Mr. St. John’s murder,” he stated calmly. “We expect her to testify with regard to a large-scale corruption scandal.”
“A corruption scandal?”
Harding may have seemed surprised to anyone else, but Connors detected a flicker of terror in the police commissioner’s eyes.
“We have evidence,” he continued, “that high-ranking officials of this city have regularly received large sums of money in exchange for certain favors. We have procured comprehensive evidence that includes names, amounts, and bank account numbers in the Cayman Islands, the Bahamas, and in Switzerland. Even if only a fraction of this turns out to be true, then this is certainly one of the largest bribery cases in the history of New York City, if not the United States.”
Jerome Harding’s face flashed red and pale in turns, but he didn’t collapse like the other men to whom Connors had given this speech in the past few days. Nick was right when he said that Harding would be a hard nut to crack. The police commissioner wasn’t intimidated that easily, and the fact that he had never withdrawn any money from the account in his name at Levy & Villiers made it unclear whether a corruption charge even applied to him.